Come Home, I Love You.

"I'll be home in an hour, love," She panted into the phone.

She was running around again, literally. Hailie was always so busy. It disturbed Sam that she was so busy, all the time. She didn't even have to be--he made more than enough money as a web designer to care for the two of them. It was almost as though Hailie just didn't have the time to have fun any more, and yet she was forcing it on herself.

"Be careful, Hailie." He warned her through the phone. "Please, take your time getting home tonight. It's nothing special. Really."

"Nothing special!" Hailie exclaimed. The phone buzzed, shocking Sam.

He thrust the phone away from his ear and flinched. The abrupt, loud sound had shocked him. He returned the phone quickly to hear what Hailie had to say.

"Nothing special?" Hailie continued. "It's your birthday!"

Hailie had always been this eccentric. That was what Sam loved about her, amongst other things.

"This is the day that we celebrate your 23rd year of life!" She cried. "And you tell me, 'It's nothing special.'?!"

Sam remained silent, allowing Hailie to continue her rant.

"Sam, even if this isn't special to you, it's special to me. It also signifies that we've been married for five years now." Hailie's voice lowered, and she slowed down. She wasn't panting any more, which meant she had either stopped or slowed to a brisk walk. "I love you, Sam, and I hope that these five years stretch out into many, many more happy, beautiful years."

Sam opened his mouth, about to speak, but he had nothing to say. He let his mouth close slowly and continued to listen. Tears were forming at the edges of his eyes. Hailie's words always filled him with joy, but usually not to this extent. He wiped the corners of his eyes with his wrist and stared at the wall, imagining Hailie's face as she persisted, driving her love into him like a nail.

Of course, it was a soft, beautiful nail made purely of admiration and gratitude and frosted delicately with a load of sincerity.

"I want us to last," Hailie must have been smiling at that moment. It was as though Sam could hear the smile in her voice. "Forever."

Sam waited for a moment. Hailie went silent. Finally, he had something to say.

"I love you, too, babe." Was all he could conjure for her.

There was no silence this time. Hailie had a quick retort to Sam's choked, purely heartfelt words.

"I just poured my heart out to you," She laughed, "For that!?"

Sam's breath caught deep in his chest. He stared at the wall ever the more intently. The silence was broken abruptly again by Hailie's laughter.

"I'm just kidding, love." Her voice rang like tiny golden bells as she giggled the words. "As long as I have your love, that's all I need and much, much more."

Tears continued to pour from Sam's eyes. He wiped them away angrily. He had no idea why he was suddenly so emotional. It was unexplainable. He was never this way.

"Sam?" Hailie asked after a few seconds.

"Yeah," Sam sniffed.

"Sam!" Hailie exclaimed, "You're crying!"

Sam inhaled deeply and exhaled with a long sigh.

"Am not!" He retorted.

Hailie giggled once more. The sound rang softly into the reciever, but halfway through it was blockaded by static. Sam removed the phone from his ear again and shook it. The signal returned immediately and he pressed the phone in between his ear and shoulder, turning to wipe off the kitchen counter, where he'd spilled tea earlier. He rubbed the spot with a wet towel and listened as Hailie breathed into the phone. The sound had a therapeutic quality to him. He grinned.

"Well, I've got to go get your surprise," Hailie finally muttered. "I'll seeya soon!"

There was a subtle smooching sound on the other end, and the line disconnected with a click. Sam placed the phone back in its station and moved to the living room. He jumped into the smooth leather couch and sighed. Tears still poured from his eyes. He buried his face in the leather in a futile attempt to stop the waterworks.

It didn't work.

"Why the hell...?" He groaned.

Sam closed his eyes and buried his face further into the leather. It scratched at his face, but he didn't care. The leathery scent filled his nostrils. It was pungent, but a comforting scent nonetheless. Soothing, almost. Comparing it unconsciously with the sound of Hailie's breathing, Sam took another deep breath and settled himself into the contours of the couch.

Before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep on the five-year-old brown leather couch that Hailie's mother had bought for them as a wedding gift.



"Sometimes when I'm alone I wonder, 'Is there a spell that I am under, keeping me from seeing the real thing...?' Love hurts, but sometimes it's a good hurt..."

The ringtone that Hailie had chosen rang through the halls, echoing past every corner and zooming back into the rest of the house. How she'd gotten the phone to inherit a specific ringtone, Sam had no idea. It was a home phone. He thought that specific ringtones were only available for cell phones, but apparently not. Hailie had figured it out.

Although he was the man of the house, he definitely wasn't the technological one. Hailie knew how everything worked and why. Sam didn't question these things enough to figure them out. Instead, he simply asked her to explain whatever was troubling him technologically, endured a 30-minute lecture on it, and had her figure it out for him.

And yet, opposites as they were, they meshed together perfectly.

The ringtone started itself over, jarring Sam from his peaceful sleep on the leather couch. Sam hurriedly pried his face from a pool of drool on the leather and jumped to his feet, running in the direction of the phone as it continued to scream Incubus's "Love Hurts."

But he'd jumped too soon. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and sent him toppling over on the hardwood floor. He got up again and ran to the phone, sliding across the kitchen floor in his socks. He pulled the phone from its station and held it to his ear.

"Hello?" He squeaked.

Sam glanced at the speed dial. It was a restricted number. He waited for a response. Finally, deciding that maybe the person on the other end hadn't heard him, he repeated his question.

"Hello? Who is this?" He asked.

"Is this Samuel Vogeli?" The voice asked.

The man on the other line had a very scruffy, rough voice. It led Sam to believe that the man had been through a lot.

"This is him," Sam answered.

"Samuel, I'm Anthony Tellers of the Portland Police Department. I'm sorry to tell you this, but your wife, Hailie Vogeli...has perished."

Sam's eyes widened. He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"What...?" He whispered.

He turned to the wall he'd faced earlier when he was on the phone with Hailie. As though the wall might give him some mystical knowledge, he questioned it.

"This is a dream, right?" He asked the wall. His eyes grew blank as fear gripped his heart. His face went pale. "This is a dream. I fell asleep on the couch earlier, and I'm sleeping. Hah. Haha. Yeah. Good one, mind. Tricking me again!"

"Umm," Anthony's scruffy voice sounded on the phone again. "Sir? Are you alright?"

Sam wrenched his gaze away from the wall. He slapped his palm against his forehead and allowed it to slide down the length of his face. Tears were beginning to pour again, and this time he had no hope of stopping the waterworks.

"Yeah, yeah," He choked. His voice lifted to a near-squeak. He laughed nervously. "Are...are you sure it's...Hailie...?"

Sam's heartbeat climbed. His breath came out in short gasps. He turned and faced that wall once again, blaming it with his gaze.

"I'm absolutely sure, Mr.Vogeli." Anthony's voice was apologetic. "There was a crash..."

Sam interrupted him, "But she didn't have the car!" He intervened, "So she couldn't have crashed it!"

"I'm not finished," Anthony continued, "There was a crash and she ran to inspect it, according to some spectators, because there were injured people in those cars. And that's when she was hit."

Sam gasped and set down the phone. His legs buckled beneath him. He let himself slide down to his knees. He thrust his face into his arms and curled into a ball.

Thoughts swirled in his head.

Sam had just talked to Hailie on the phone what, an hour before? It didn't seem right. It was out of place. He was out of place. It was like a nightmare. A horrible, heart-wrenching nightmare that was so vivid he felt as though he could thrust a knife into his heart and wake up with a knife gouged into his chest.

Sam tasted the salty pool of tears that coursed down his face. He gasped for air between each little river that flooded into his mouth.

"Samuel?" The phone called for him on the counter, but Sam couldn't get up.

His legs felt like mashed potatoes. He felt like a translucent blob of nothingness. He felt as though he were going to...

Sam thrusted his head to the side and retched over the tiled kitchen floor. He let himself slide back into the position he'd been in before, curled into a ball in the corner.

"Samuel, are you still there?" The line called again.

Sam stared blankly at the floor where he had retched. The scent was reaching him in waves now. He felt like he was soon to retch again. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to block it.

"Samuel, I'm sending an officer to your home."

Sam remained where he was. His mind whirled ever the more. Pictures of Hailie flashed through his brain. He was a disaster.









(I'll continue this later. ....still trying to find my writing abilities. Where'd they go? D:)